


Training

by Mexta



Category: The Administration - Manna Francis
Genre: Bondage, D/s, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-18
Updated: 2011-03-18
Packaged: 2017-10-17 02:33:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/171997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mexta/pseuds/Mexta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Toreth makes an investment in training, knowing the short-term frustration is worth the long-term gain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Training

**Author's Note:**

> A/N on my Livejournal starting [here](http://mexta.livejournal.com/32054.html).

Training

" _Toreth intended to stay, of course, but it was far more fun to leave the question in doubt. What mattered was that Warrick believed he would leave, and from his expression, there was no doubt about that. After all, Toreth had left before. Those departures had been necessary if frustrating training, with evenings like this as the worthwhile reward_."  
\- Manna Francis, [_Mirror Mirror_](http://www.mannazone.org/zone/admin/fic/mm.html)

  
The first time he left, Toreth almost stopped himself. Not because he hesitated to walk away but because, for a split second, he anticipated the consequences that would surely follow and wondered if they were worth it. Then he brushed that thought aside and did what he had to.

They'd been having dinner at a quiet bar next to the hotel, preparatory to going upstairs to the room Warrick had booked for the night. The game was already in effect, since Toreth had given Warrick directions before they met. Which, Toreth confirmed with a quick glance as soon as he arrived at the restaurant, Warrick had obeyed: two supple leather wristbands were just visible under the loose sleeves of his jacket.

Toreth smirked, sat down, ordered a drink, and made a point of letting his gaze linger for a moment on Warrick's wrist. When Toreth looked up, Warrick was flushing slightly as he lifted his drink, but he made a bland comment about the traffic and then another about the weather as the colour died away from his face.

"Warm in here isn't it," Toreth agreed, unbuttoning the cuffs of his own sleeves and rolling them up. "Why don't you take your jacket off, get comfortable?"

Warrick eyed him pleasantly. "I don't think so, no."

The leather bands were narrow and discreet, hardly noticeable, but Toreth didn't mind that; he'd only specified cuffs that could be locked, leaving it to Warrick to work out the details. In any case, even with the jacket on, Toreth could glimpse the dark rich leather each time Warrick moved his hands to hold silverware or pick up his glass, and he could see from Warrick's movements how conscious he was of them too.

By the time their plates had been cleared, Toreth was ready to move on to the next step in his plan. He leaned back in the chair, looked over the top of his coffee cup, and asked with a glint, "Ready now?"

Warrick, who had been chatting lightly about Simtech office politics, stopped abruptly and Toreth saw his whole body grow more alert. "Mm," he said after a brief pause, and glanced around for the waiter. "Certainly. Let me just get the bill."

"No," Toreth said, and Warrick looked faintly puzzled. "I'll take care of that. You need to go to the toilet."

Warrick, who had started to lift his hand in summons, stopped mid-movement. The dark leather peeked out from under his sleeve again, and for a moment his gaze focused on that. Then he looked up and met Toreth's wolfish grin.

"The last stall is extra large," Toreth explained. "Go in there, strip from the waist up – except for the cuffs of course -- and wait on your knees with your back against the wall. Make sure you leave the stall door open."

Warrick shook his head minutely, and turned away, scanning for the waiter. "No. Toreth – "

"You're to be in position by the time I come in."

There was a pause, and Warrick looked briefly thoughtful, as though he were considering it. "And how long will that be?"

Toreth smiled and lifted a shoulder lightly. "Until I've finished my coffee. And paid the bill. And – decided I'm ready."

"No." Warrick used his most matter-of-fact voice, no doubt to show that he'd made up his mind. "Toreth." He gestured around the room. "Look at the number of people here. There's no way to … Anyway. We have a room upstairs. Just let me take care of – "

"Yes, it's very convenient, having the room upstairs." Toreth nodded, leaning back in his chair, and watched Warrick. "It would be a shame not to use it, wouldn't it?"

"Oh, come on. You're not serious." Warrick did a creditable impression of dismissive and disbelieving, but Toreth could see the faint change in his breathing, the way it grew faster and more shallow, and knew he was on the ropes.

"Of course I am. But you know it's up to you. We could just call this a friendly dinner and leave it at that. Disappointing for me, of course, but … " Toreth switched his gaze to survey the rest of the room with an analytical eye. "I might be able to get over it."

For a moment they remained, sitting across the table from each other in a kind of stand-off. Toreth let the pause linger, tempted to wait until Warrick caved in on his own. The physiological signs suggested that wouldn't be long. But he had one more tool at his disposal, and he might as well use it. Reaching into his pocket, Toreth closed his hand round the metal chain there, then let it run through his fingers until it made a faint but audible chinking sound.

Warrick blinked, almost imperceptibly. Toreth smiled and did it again. _Chink, chink_.

And then Warrick was on his feet, looking around. "Er … where did you say the … ?"

In fact, the toilet was behind Warrick, which is to say, in Toreth's line of vision. Though it wasn't obvious at a quick glance, all the tables directly between them and the door were empty and Toreth knew they would remain empty, since he had arranged that with the management beforehand, for a reasonable sum. Which made it impossible for anyone to follow Warrick in without Toreth getting there first. But of course he wasn't about to mention that.

Tonight's test wasn't about trust, it was about risk. How much was Warrick willing to risk on the promise of a future payoff?

As Warrick started to turn around, Toreth reached out abruptly and gripped his wrist. Warrick sucked in his breath and looked down. _Chink, chink_. The noise came louder this time, accompanied by a flash of metal, as Toreth, in a quick movement, fastened one end of the chain to Warrick's right wrist cuff.

"Have the other end attached by the time I get in there," he said softly, and let go.

Warrick's eyes glazed over a little, and Toreth watched in satisfaction as he walked off with a slightly unsteady step: no way he'd notice the empty tables now. Glancing around, Toreth caught the waiter's eye and nodded for the bill.

He kept a thoughtful eye on the closed toilet door as he finished his coffee and put a card down for the bill. Expensive, of course, but nothing good came without a price. And since Warrick continued to foot the hotel bills, this seemed like a good way for Toreth to carry his weight.

Of course the other advantage to tonight's plan was that, with an early start down here, Toreth could get off once before they even went up to the room, which would allow him to last much longer later.

He waited another couple of minutes after he'd finished with the bill. Not long, really, but he knew the seconds would tick by slowly for Warrick, waiting in the corner of the stall. He entertained himself by letting the image form in his mind – Warrick, kneeling on the cold floor, bare-chested, forearms resting on his thighs – the chain swaying lightly between his wrists – face and neck flushing at the possibility of discovery – arms perhaps tugging periodically against the chain … Toreth felt himself stirring and decided he'd better go in before walking across the room became too awkward for him as well.

On his way over, he took a last quick glance around to confirm that no one else looked like they would make an imminent appearance inside the toilet. Of course once he got the stall door shut it wouldn't much matter who came in; he knew, from advance reconnaissance, that the particular stall was angled in a way that would hide their feet from other patrons.

He pushed open the door and immediately heard it – a quick rustling sound from the back of the room. Toreth paused, listening, as the door swung silently shut behind him. There it was again – the faint swishing of fabric moving, and yes, a gentle clinking of metal as well.

 _Bloody hell_. There went the evening. Toreth took two long strides into the last stall, and looked down grimly.

Warrick knelt in the corner, as instructed, but the high colour in his face and his rapid breathing wasn't just from anticipation.

"I told you to be in position when I came in," Toreth said coldly.

Warrick's breath hissed, but he didn't look up. "I … I was … "

"You were waiting for me first." Disappointment made Toreth want to lash out, to lay his open hand hard across Warrick's face. All that planning and expense, for nothing. But since he was ending the game, violence would be inappropriate.

The only consolation was in disappointing Warrick as well. "Get up. It's over. Can you get the chain off by yourself?"

"What?" Warrick looked at him sharply. "Toreth, wait. I'm sorry."

That was the moment when Toreth almost lost his resolve. He thought about the inevitable fallout, the firestorm that would surely come. No doubt Warrick would be irritated; he'd refuse Toreth's calls for a few days, or start a quarrel. For a second Toreth hesitated, anticipating the unpleasantness. Then he saw Warrick's expression –surprised, impatient, mildly alarmed. As though he anticipated a little extra punishment as the evening proceeded; that was all.

Toreth grimaced to himself. Warrick didn't take him seriously? It was time to start training; damn the cost. "You know the consequences of not obeying my instructions," he said. "I'll take that as a yes. Good night."

He turned on his heel. Behind him, he heard Warrick scramble to his feet.

"Wait – Toreth, please. What are you – "

Too little, too late. Toreth crossed the restaurant floor and walked out the front door without slowing down. Then he smiled mirthlessly to himself, remembering that he had scouted out the neighbourhood as well as the restaurant in advance, checking the other bars for potential prospects … just in case something didn't go well. Planning did pay off, he told himself, and headed toward the most likely establishment.

  
*********

  
By the next morning, Toreth's mood had improved slightly. The evening hadn't been a complete bust in the end, yet his head was surprisingly clear by the time he got into work. Yes, the prospect of a row with Warrick still weighed over him, but at least that wouldn't manifest immediately; Warrick would likely want a little sulk first. Toreth would no doubt need to smooth things over in a couple of days, but he certainly didn't need to worry about it this early.

And then, oddly, the comm chimed just as Sara was off getting coffee, and Torreth glanced up to see Warrick's name on the screen. He stopped his work and looked at it with a puzzled frown. Did Warrick really want to have it out so soon? He must be more worked up than Toreth had expected. Oh, well; just because Warrick wanted the quarrel now, didn't mean Toreth needed to accommodate him.

He leaned back, twirling the earpiece in his fingers and watching the screen, until it told him that a voice message was waiting. Then he sat for another minute, still looking at the screen, and finally decided to put off listening until he was ready to go home; he had a lot of work to get through today and Warrick's irritation would only distract him. He switched the comm screen away and went on with his work.

A low-level curiosity haunted him throughout the day, but he managed to finish what he had to, and by the time he said good night to Sara he was feeling reasonably satisfied with himself. Only one chore left to do before he could go home to a peaceful apartment and a strong drink. He sighed, opened the comm, and played the message.

"Good morning, Toreth." Warrick's recorded voice sounded light and breezy, and Toreth's eyes widened a little in surprise. "I wanted to thank you for dinner last night. So kind of you to pick up the tab, and as always, your company was delightful. I do thank you." Toreth listened intently, disbelief changing to a kind of analytical curiosity. There was something in Warrick's voice besides determined cheeriness – something Toreth couldn't quite place at first.

"And I … I also wanted to apologize," Warrick's voice went on, an uncharacteristic hesitancy creeping into it. "For my, mm, for the failure on my part. I'm sorry that I didn't follow your instructions as – quite as fully as I should have done. I regretted it, of course, immediately. Most unfortunate. But entirely my fault." There was a slight pause, and Toreth started to place the undertones in Warrick's voice – uncertainty, perhaps, and a kind of conciliatory earnestness. "I do hope we can – give it another try. Soon." _Anxiety_ , Toreth thought suddenly. _He's worried_. "I'll leave it to you to let me know when you'd like to re-schedule. I'd be happy to book the room again. Good-bye."

Toreth sat for a moment, still looking at the screen and letting the weight lift from his shoulders until he felt almost giddy with relief. _Re-schedule_ , he thought. _Why yes_. _I can do that._

He lifted the earpiece and told the comm to call Warrick back.

  
********

  
The next time it happened – quite a few months later – Warrick looked not mildly alarmed when Toreth threatened to leave, but unmistakeably chagrined. And he didn't waste any time before he started begging, with a very gratifying urgency. In fact, Toreth was so pleased with Warrick's reaction, and enjoyed the begging so much, that he decided to encourage it by staying this time. So after a suitable delay he allowed himself to be persuaded, and Warrick's relief was palpable and sincere. The whole thing made for a very intense and satisfying evening.

Of course that meant he had to follow through with his threat the next time, despite Warrick's equally sincere and satisfying pleas. There was no point beginning the training if he didn't carry it through, Toreth thought.

And so they went on. Toreth set occasional tests, which Warrick passed with increasing frequency; and when he didn't, Toreth imposed consequences. He calculated that walking away about eighty-five per cent of the time was optimal: a fifteen per cent success rate gave Warrick enough incentive to try stopping him, without undoing the effects of the training.

Of course that meant frustration for himself a significant portion of the time. But the effect would be worth it, he told himself. The long-term pay-off was incalculable.

  
*********

  
One week, shortly after the SimTech safety trial celebration event, Toreth invited himself round to Warrick's flat for their usual Friday evening festivities.

When he arrived, Warrick let him in and started to return to the kitchen, but Toreth stopped him. The old-fashioned way: by grabbing his shirt front and pulling him back, then pushing him up against the wall.

Warrick looked slightly surprised at first, but not displeased. He reached up to extract the fabric under Toreth's fingers and smooth down his shirt. "What – " he began, but Toreth, palms against the wall on either side of Warrick's shoulders now, trapping him, leaned in and kissed him, for rather a long time.

"Mm. Yes," Warrick agreed, when it was over. He moved his arm under Toreth's, to gesture at the kitchen. "I was just putting something together for dinner. We need our strength, don't we?"

"Save it for breakfast," Toreth said gruffly. "I'm going out to get something for tonight."

"Toreth, it's linguini with scallops and mussels. Not exactly breakfast food. Why do you want to get something else?"

"Because we need something you can eat while you're chained to a wall."

"Oh." Colour drained from Warrick's face abruptly and he dropped his hand. "Well, seafood for breakfast, should be an excellent start to the day." He made a noticeable effort to focus. "Where were you thinking of going?"

"I'll need you to point me to the best place. Something you can eat easily when I position it for you. Without your hands. Which will be behind your back."

Warrick considered, ignoring the faint flush that was now stealing up his neck. "Smoothie, maybe?"

"Sounds good. I'll get something better for myself." Toreth gave him a fleeting grin. "Where can I get one?"

"There's a good shop down the block – northeast corner. Where shall I … be fastened?" Warrick asked, not quite as casually as he wanted to. "There aren't many fixtures here that we can attach a chain to."

"I know." Toreth nodded, and reached into his pocket. "That's what you'll be doing while I'm off purchasing supplies." He opened his hand to show two solid metal bolts. "Left over from your gift. One for standing, one for kneeling, I think."

Warrick stared down at Toreth's hand, eyes widening. "Toreth! I – "

"What, you want one for the headboard too? I only have two left, unfortunately. Shall I pick up another sometime?"

Warrick shook his head quickly, his breathing slightly erratic. "Two is plenty. But – but this is a corporate rental, I … "

"Well, perhaps one in these in the headboard then – you own that, don't you? And one anchor in the wall will be easy enough to patch when you move out. I'll help with the patching if you like. So, what do you think – standing or kneeling?"

For a moment Warrick didn't answer, just kept looking at the glinting metal bolts in Toreth's hand. Then he gave a light shiver and said, "Kneeling, I think. Yes."

"Excellent choice," Toreth said approvingly. "I can put your supper on the floor and you can – suck it out with a straw." He smirked. "And then you can do the same for dessert. No hands," he added, more descriptively. "On your knees, wrists bound behind you, forced back against the wall … " He pushed Warrick into the wall where they were, and pressed up to him again, mouth against his ear. "I'll run the chain from your neck to your ankles … then hook it to the bolt … you'll be immobile, won't you? Nothing you can do, while I thrust into your mouth, controlling your breathing … that won't be very comfortable will it?"

"Mm, no," Warrick mumbled, more faintly than usual, his face going pale again.

"Never mind," Toreth went on encouragingly. "I'll move you to the bed before I fuck you. That bolt on the headboard – you know we can turn the collar so the chain is at the front or the back. That means I can take you from behind or the front. Either way there's nothing you can do about it." He paused and took a step back. "Well, we'd better make sure you're ready, hadn't we? Go and get your manacles and collar. Don't forget the chain."

Toreth watched with amusement as Warrick started off toward the bedroom, his footsteps unsteady.

"Warrick!" When Warrick paused and looked back with glazed eyes, Toreth nodded at the kitchen. "Better go turn things off in there first."

He leaned back against the wall and waited while Warrick went into the kitchen mechanically, then came out and headed toward the bedroom again. In a minute he came back to the hall, and Toreth watched his approach with appreciation. The collar circling his neck was half-hidden under his open shirt, but the fine links of the chain glinted as they draped over his chest, with the silver-grey manacles strikingly visible on his bare forearms. Warrick's movements caused the chain to snake and jingle slightly, and his consciousness of the cuffs showed in the way he held his arms.

Toreth used the chain to pull him forward and kiss him again, and Warrick moved in to meet the kiss with trembling eagerness. This was the tricky moment, Toreth knew – the moment when he needed to hold on firmly to his resolve or he would never get out of the apartment that night.

For a second he almost forgot why his plan called for him to leave, but then he remembered: this was to be another test – a challenge, really. One that would require Warrick to make a serious effort. To prove himself.

Toreth's own challenge was to pull his head back, put a hand and one closed fist on Warrick's hips as they ground against his own, and push him away firmly. "Not yet." When he had succeeded in separating them, Toreth took a step towards the door. "I see you're ready." He opened his fist to show the bolts. "The one in the wall will need a good solid anchor. And a drill, of course. Do you have everything you need?"

Warrick nodded dumbly, his lips parted, eyes dark and hooded as they fixed on the two metal pieces.

"All set then?" Warrick nodded again, and put out his hand. Toreth pressed the rings into the outstreched palm, but left his own hand on top for another moment. "You'll have fifteen minutes. For both. If they're not ready and you're not fully in position when I get back here, you know the consequences. Understand?"

Warrick looked slightly taken aback, and Toreth could see him calculating mentally. But he closed his hand over the rings, gripping Toreth's fingers as well. "Yes," he said after a moment.

Toreth gave him a last fleeting grin. "And don't cut any corners. I'll be testing them." He pulled his hand away. "Set the system to let me back in. Good luck. See you in fifteen." He opened the door and set off buoyantly, pleased with his success so far.

  
**********

  
Toreth didn't use the comm when he got back to the building with the food; no sense giving Warrick any advance notice. In the elevator he amused himself by imagining how distracted Warrick must be.

Upstairs, the door opened for him and the flat itself was completely still. A good sign, he thought – no last minute scramble to finish up, apparently. He detoured into the kitchen for a couple of plates, then walked slowly down the hall, his footsteps sounding loud to him, almost menacing, in the silent apartment. He wondered how they sounded to Warrick.

Inside the bedroom, Toreth had to blink a couple of times to focus before he could grasp what he saw.

Warrick looked up as he came in. From where he knelt, at the end of his bed, his tool set open on the floor beside him. The two bolts, shining dully in the evening light, resting on the cover of his perfectly made bed.

… _Nothing_? Warrick had done _nothing_ since he left? Toreth couldn't quite process what his eyes told him at first. He stared at Warrick.

"You – "

"No," Warrick broke in. He seemed to wake up suddenly, his eyes widening as they met Toreth's stunned gaze. "It's not what it looks like," he said quickly.

"What it _looks_ like?" Toreth could feel the old familiar rage borne of disappointment growing inside him. "It _looks_ like you haven't done a bloody thing."

"I – I tried," Warrick said.

"You _tried_?" Toreth stared at Warrick for another moment, then took one step toward him. Warrick winced instinctively and moved away, but of course there was no danger of that, Toreth thought grimly. Instead, he stopped and leaned down to hiss directly in Warrick's ear. "Then you need to _try_ _harder_."

He stood up, turned, dropped the things he was carrying onto a side table, and strode out of the bedroom, down the hall, to the flat door.

 _Intolerable. Unacceptable_. Warrick hadn't even made an effort. It was one thing to fail in a test of his enthusiasm, his readiness to take risks. This was about something different – his willingness to work for it, to exert himself. His fucking _commitment_ to the whole thing. Was it not reasonable for Toreth to expect _some_ level of that, at this point in their arrangement?

Toreth had already started opening the flat door when there was a sudden thud against the wall beside it, and Warrick's arm fell backwards across the door, creating an unexpected resistance.

"Toreth, stop, _please_ – "

Toreth wrenched harder on the handle, using both hands, and the full force of his strength easily defeated Warrick's single arm, stretched at an imperfect angle. Success; the door opened and Toreth took a step through it. Beside him, he could just see Warrick, falling back against the wall beside the door with an odd kind of despair.

"Plastic duck."

The words stopped Toreth is his tracks. "Plastic _duck_?" He stared at Warrick in disbelief and barely controlled fury. "You think this is a game? Now?"

Warrick shook his head rapidly, back and forth. "I don't know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I just meant – we need to talk. Please don't leave without talking first."

Toreth shut his mouth and started moving forward again. "No. Not now."

"Please. I know I – " Warrick pressed his lips together and reached for Toreth's arm – a tentative touch, not imperious. "I know how the game works. I understand that I've –  
forfeited any possibility of more fun this evening. That's fine. I'm asking to talk."

"If I don't want to fuck," Toreth said coldly, "Why would I want to talk?"

Warrick gave the ghost of a smile. "Fair point. But come on, Toreth. It takes ages for me to reach you after an argument. You have Sara shield you and never spend time at home. I really don't want to have to stake out your office again."

For a brief instant Toreth felt almost offended – was he so predictable? And was it his fault if avoided the unpleasantness? Then he found himself faintly in agreement with Warrick – it was annoying, having these things weigh over him for days, the unsettled feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maybe there was something to be said for having it out now. While he still had the strength of righteous anger to sustain him.

Watching him, Warrick obviously saw the moment when Toreth conceded. He turned quickly, toward the kitchen. "I'll make us some tea, shall I?"

"Fuck the tea. You can make me a drink." Toreth went into the living room moodily but didn't sit down. He stood by the window, looking outside, and turned reluctantly when Warrick came in with his drink.

Warrick disappeared down the hall for a minute and came back with the smoothie Toreth had brought for him. "Do you mind? I'm famished, and there's no point letting this go to waste, is there?" He gave Toreth a slightly apologetic smile. "Since it won't be serving its original purpose."

Shrugging, Toreth lifted his glass and took a couple of deep swallows. That should help the conversation, he thought. "Look, Warrick," he began, after a moment. "I'm not sure what there is to talk about. You know we … play by certain rules. I gave you a set of instructions and there are always consequences when you don't follow instructions." He paused, waiting to see if Warrick would say anything in his defense. But Warrick had seated himself on one of the sofas and was now delicately spooning the congealing dairy substance into his mouth. He looked up at Toreth with the spoon in his mouth and nodded slightly.

"You had opportunity to tell me if you didn't like what I asked you to do. Were you worried about the rental? Did you decide you didn't want to mar the wall?"

"No." Warrick put the spoon down neatly beside the tall glass and studied it thoughtfully.

"Good, because I thought it was a perfectly reasonable suggestion on my part. I now have three – _three_ – bolts anchored very solidly into the walls at my rental for your – our – convenience, and it will take a substantial effort on my part to get rid of that evidence when I leave."

Toreth was pacing now. Back and forth on the rug in front of the sofa, while Warrick watched him with mild curiosity. Toreth decided he hated pacing. He stopped, threw himself into the chair across from Warrick, and took another drink. "Fifteen minutes was plenty of time – "

Warrick nodded, opening his mouth, but Toreth didn't stop.

" – if you'd made _any_ bloody effort. You're perfectly capable of that and we both know it. It would have taken a bit of spit and muscle, that's all. That and a – a decision." He stopped abruptly, then went on more slowly. "I wanted to see that, you know. Some dedication. A comm—conscious effort on your part." There was some kind of undertone in his own voice that Toreth could hear but not place. He didn't think he liked it.

"I couldn't," Warrick said finally, in a voice so quiet Toreth had to lean forward a little to hear him. "I wanted to. My hands were shaking far too violently. I would have made a mess. And possibly injured myself permanently. I spent fifteen minutes just trying to go soft so I could steady my hands."

Toreth stared at him for a moment, then looked away. "You should have told me," he said after a pause.

"I was afraid you'd leave."

"I very nearly did." Toreth took another drink, and looked back at Warrick. "What were you planning on doing, then?"

Warrick shook his head. "I didn't have a plan. I was too distracted to think straight at all. You – you had me completely wound up, Toreth. Sometimes that's a good thing. _Often_ it's a good thing. But when power tools are involved … " Warrick smiled faintly and Toreth had to admit to himself that he'd missed the obvious flaw in his plan.

Warrick leaned forward abruptly. "I really _didn't_ want you to leave, you know."

"Of course you didn't," Toreth grunted.

"Not just because I wanted the part that came next. I mean, I wanted that but – but I knew it was about more than that. I wanted to show you … what you wanted to see. That I'm willing to work at this. To … " Warrick paused, apparently searching for words. "To put holes in my apartment walls for it."

Toreth laughed suddenly, a little explosion of pent-up tension. "That _is_ a commitment," he said, lifting his drink again.

"Quite. But you see – that's why I didn't want you to leave without talking first. I couldn't have you thinking I was – unsure." He stopped again, and looked straight at Toreth. "Failing one of your tasks is one thing. But it would be _unfair_ of me to let you think I didn't care. About – about this."

Toreth watched Warrick from behind his glass, drinking in the steady intent gaze, the furrowed earnest brow, the lips still parted from the effort of explaining himself. Then he lowered the glass to the table. "Yeah," he said, standing up. "Me too."

He put out his hand and pulled Warrick to his feet. "Come on," he said, moving toward the hall. "Let's go put up those bolts."

 

 


End file.
